


In Time

by Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christine arrives at the opera house later, Erik meets Raoul first, Leroux!based, M/M, my (possible) submission for phantastichomo's fic contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox/pseuds/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy was in his head constantly. It was irritating, and there was nothing he could do. Once there were times when he could compose for days on end without a stray thought, but now every moment he was distracted by the thought of blonde hair and clear skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Time

In Time

The boy was in his head constantly. It was irritating, and there was nothing he could do. Once there were times when he could compose for days on end without a stray thought, but now every moment he was distracted by the thought of blonde hair and clear skin.

Curse it! If he could only rid the boy from his thoughts. But he was beautiful, too beautiful. What man had a complexion like that? No one.

Truly, there was no reason for him to be so fixated. He hadn't even heard the man sing! (Not that he doubted that the boy would be good. His speaking voice was melodic; a tenor, mellow and sweet.) He had never spoken to him, not that ever would; not like how the boy would speak to someone who was equal to him. Erik was made for the shadows, unlike the boy.

The boy was from the upper echelons of society, had only made his way into Erik’s Opera House for _support_ of the arts, not _for_ the arts. They weren’t meant to intermingle. That wasn’t how it went. The sun does not touch the night. It was only shadows whom encroached upon the light. For gods sake, there was no reason for these _feelings_ and yet they wouldn’t go away.

What started off as curiosity had now turn into full on obsession. He wouldn’t stop until he had that boy.

~~

He found out the boy’s name on some day in October. They were hosting auditions for a new soprano in the chorus, and the patron apparently had to be there. Personally, Erik liked to blame it upon the dimwit managers, and their inabilities to do anything right. Of course, the boy was too kind, or perhaps simply too polite, to ever say something like that to them. Erik had no such qualms.

They were up to some shy brunette with a fairly good voice when the boy cried out to her. “Christine!” He said, and oh no, that wouldn’t do. It was such a shame, too. The girl had such a nice tone quality.

“Raoul?”

But the boy was his, and that was not going to change.

She had given him his name, however, so he would let her live a small while longer. She appeared to make the boy---- _Raoul_ \---happy, anyway.

Raoul. Not a name he would expect, but not unfitting. Erik liked it.

~~~

It was two weeks after the name incident when he cracked and started following Raoul around. Erik wasn’t getting any composing done anyway; it was more a matter of pride than it was a matter of work. And Erik was nothing if not prideful, but Raoul was a force that could not be stopped.

He had, of course followed him before. He was the new patron, and it was for the opera house. Erik couldn’t have his funding just pulled away at any moment if some...accidents happened.

This wasn’t like that, though. That was professional. This was all but professional. He observed Raoul  silently as Raoul watched the current opera, as he discussed business with the managers, when Raoul went to visit Christine.

Erik hated Christine. Musically, she was good enough to be some sort of protégé of his; personally, she had taken what belonged to him. And that was unforgivable. However, Raoul was fond of her, and he would hate to make Raoul hate him, especially before Raoul had never even seen him…

Soon, he would speak with him. It was just a matter of time, now. The right time, and then, he would speak to him. Then, Raoul would be his. All in time.

~~~

The first time they spoke was a chilly night in November. _“Viscount,”_ he hummed.

Raoul froze mid-step. “Who is it? Who is out there? “

“Doesn’t the Viscount know of the ghost?”

  


“The Opera Ghost?” He scoffed. “Come out! I’ll have none of these games.”

  


“But I am the Opera Ghost, Monsieur,” Erik laughed.

  


“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  
“Don’t worry,” He grinned. “You will.”

  


_Soon_ , he reminded himself. Soon.

~~~

“If you refuse to come out of the shadows, would you at least give me a name?”

  
“You? You, Raoul, you can call me Erik.”

  


“Erik…” He hummed. “Wait! How do you know my name!”

  


Erik only laughed.

  


“I know many things, _Raoul_.”

  


~~~~

He wanted the boy with a passion before reserved only for music. It was a physical ache; creeping into his dreams with visions of creamy skin splayed out upon silk sheets. In dreams like those, Raoul was always more than consenting; he was begging and needy and beautiful. In those dreams, wordless pleas were prettier than any aria he could hope to compose.

There were, of course, other dreams, but Erik preferred not to dwell upon those. In those, Raoul saw his face. And Erik knew far better than to expect anything good when someone saw his face.

  


In those dreams he had to keep Raoul locker up, in case he decided to leave him, in case he decided to run. Erik needed him, he couldn’t let him go. His pretty Viscount…Dear, polite Raoul…

~~~

Raoul sighed, a breath extinguishing his candle.

“Something the matter, Viscount?” Erik’s voice echoed across the room.

“Erik,” he glanced up. “No, no, everything is fine.”

“You don’t look it. Perhaps a song might help?”

“A song?”

“Why would you think a ghost might haunt an Opera House, Raoul, if not for the music?” He deadpanned.

“You are not a ghost.”

“Are you certain of that?”

Raoul refused to reply.

A lullabye would suit him well.

~~~

“You have been following me, Erik.”

“Perhaps.”

“No longer simply in the Opera House.”

So he had caught onto that as well. It wasn’t as though he had made it a secret, of course, but Raoul wasn’t exactly the overly clever sort.

“I hear you sing everywhere I go.” He said, as though saying it aloud might somehow make it true. “Why?”

“What else would there be for me to do?”

“You seem to find terrorizing the managers entertaining enough.”  
“The managers bore me. I wanted to see you.” He scoffed.

“Then come out into the light, and let me see you.”

Erik laughed bitterly. “No, not quite yet.” No, not quite ever. Not all of his face, at least.

~~~

“Erik, let me see you, please.” Raoul said to the empty corridor.

No response.

“Erik, please.”

“And why would you wish to see a ghost?”

“I wish to see the man who has been speaking with me for the past three months.” Raoul said. “Is that so wrong?”

Now was his chance. He could take the boy back to the lake, keep him with him forever. But something inside him made him wait. “Not yet, Raoul.”

“You have been saying that for weeks.”

“My apologies for your impatience.” He snarked.

  


His reflection in the lake was pale, his mask brightest of all. No, he couldn’t see.

~~~

It was December when Raoul gave him the most chilling news. Raoul was beaming, practically singing praises to the heavens when Erik found him. “Something happen, Raoul?”

“Erik!” He shouted. “You won’t believe it!”

“I won’t believe what?” He frowned.

“I’m engaged!” He laughed. “To Christine. Little Lotte, my Little Lotte….”

Oh no. That wouldn’t do at all. “You will not get married to Christine, Raoul.” He barked.

“What? Of course I will!” He laughed. “Perhaps I’ll even have the honor of your singing at my wedding, hm?”

“I won’t allow it---You cannot marry her.”

“You are not my keeper.”

“You will not be marrying Christine!” He thundered.

“And who would you have me marry then?” Raoul shouted back. “I shall choose whom I marry, _thank you._ ”

 _You shall not marry anyone at all_ ,  Erik vowed.

~~~

It was easy to frighten away the Daae girl. Apparently all he had to do was impersonate an angel. The engagement was broken.

Raoul was glum for a time, but he overcame it. It opened up so much more time for him to spend with Erik.

“I had thought you were grieving your engagement?”  
“I had missed you.”

And spend time with him, he did. They were closer than he had ever been with any person, even Christine.

“Tell me again about your times in Persia, Erik.”

~~~

Raoul was walking out of his box when he caught sight of the strange man from box five. Box five, the ghost’s box. Lightning struck through his heart; he jolted forward and caught his  sleeve. “Erik?” He asked quietly

The man flinched as though Raoul’s touch was burning him. He wore a porcelain mask; Recognition flittered through his eyes.  Raoul tightened his grip. “Erik,” he repeated.

Then, “Raoul.”

“You show yourself at last.”  
He faltered. “I suppose I did.”

“Well, not truly,” He touched the mask.

“Don’t, Raoul.” Erik’s voice was sharp.

Raoul drew away. “My apologies.”

More Opera goers filtered their way into the hallway. “Here, follow me.” He tugged on his hand, led him to the roof.

The winter air was brisk against Raoul’s skin; Erik, at least, still had his cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

“Why all the secrecy?” Raoul shivered. “Pretending to be a ghost, truly? You almost had me convinced.” He laughed.

“I should have shown myself at midnight on Samhain,” he quipped. “Then you would have been convinced.”

“A shame indeed.”  Raoul said. “But if would only work if you never showed yourself again.”

“And that I would not be willing to do.”

“Truly? It seems like you would do an awful lot for the ability to keep up your guise as a phantom.”

“Sometimes the effect isn’t worth the effort.”

“No, somethings aren’t.” He laughed, teeth chattering.

“You’re cold.”

“Only a little.”

“Here.” He draped his cloak around Raoul’s shoulders. “I’m rather used to the cold.” He fidgeted with the clasp, Raoul’s face so close he could feel his breath. “Ah---My apologies, Viscount.” He withdrew his hand.

Raoul grabbed at it.  “No, my thanks. “ He swallowed. “You are too kind to lend me your cloak.”

“There is no problem.”

“No, thank you.”

Raoul’s face was so close. A little bit closer and---Erik kissed him. Raoul’s lips were soft and cold and--- He _kissed_ him. Dear god, what had he done? All of it was for nothing; the careful planning, the days spent talking, the songs he composed. He drew away quickly; he could still feel Raoul’s lips. “That was inappropriate---I should not have---”

“No, no,” Raoul swallowed. “It is fine.”

“ _What._ ”

“I said,” Raoul raised his eyes to meet Erik’s. “It is fine.” And then he kissed him, and it was far better than the dreams had led him to expect.

  


  
  
  
  



End file.
